


This Whirlwind

by nightfalltwen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-06
Updated: 2012-02-06
Packaged: 2017-10-30 16:41:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/333838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightfalltwen/pseuds/nightfalltwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's difficult for her.  She's in love with two men for very different reasons that tug in all manner of directions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Whirlwind

**Author's Note:**

> Written for prompt #65: Every Wednesday at 2:00, room 610 at **hp_unfaithful** @LJ. This means its an infidelity fic. If that ain't your thing, then hit the back button instead of raging at me about how horrible you think I am for writing infidelity. Those comments will be flagged as spam. Sentence fragments are on purpose. Special thanks to **cryptaknight** who shares my love for Draco and gave me lots of encouragement along the way. This is totally dedicated to you. *MUAH!* Parts of some of the dialogue from the Epilogue are included. They don't belong to me, of course.

***

The first time it happens, Hermione is four months pregnant with Rose.

Where it initially starts is a meeting with the heads of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical creatures. Policies regarding the proposed update to the regulations and standards for all dragon colonies in the UK open the discussion, but are quickly interrupted by the entrance of the Minister's new personal assistant. Even Hermione admits that this new one is more attractive than the last and a pinch of insecurity catches her right under her ribs. No one in the room actually knows she's expecting; they've only told family and friends. 

Hermione watches every male head in the room turn and follow Miss Perky-Buns as she walks around the table. It doesn't help that she's wearing one of Gladrags' new robe styles, all slinky and curve-hugging and showing far too much leg that is appropriate for a government building. When she leaves, there's some murmured remarks that Hermione is too embarrassed to listen to, but she doesn't miss the waggled eyebrows or elbowing jokes.

And she doesn't know why it hurts, but it does.

When the meeting is over, Hermione flees the room and tears through the corridors, testing doors on either side on either side until she finds one that opens.

Room 610 isn't even part of her department.

Pushing the door shut, Hermione turns the lock and with her forehead resting against the thick wood she begins to cry, her entire body shaking from it.

"Granger, if you're going to carry on like that, does it have to be in here?"

Hermione claps her hands over her mouth and spins around. Standing directly behind her is Draco Malfoy and she's horrified to realise that he's seen her sobbing like a fool. She tries wiping her face, but tears are dripping off her chin and her nose continues to run in an ungodly way. Other than his first question, he doesn't say a word. But there is this flicker of concern that crosses his face. Maybe he doesn't realise it was there, but she sees it.

He reaches out and places a hand on her shoulder and before she knows what she is doing she throws her arms around his waist and buries her face in his shirt as a fresh onslaught of sobs overwhelm her. She wishes that it was Ron, who always looks at her like she is beautiful and almost makes her fears go away, but it isn't, so she makes do with what she has. And he does a fair job at rubbing her back.

"Sooner or later you're going to have to tell me what exactly you're doing," he says, the tone of his voice is a mixture of cool superiority and genuine concern. It's odd to hear both. Strangely he seems to pull it off.

Looking back on the whole interlude, Hermione would never know just what exactly possessed her to open up to him, but she does. Everything starts to pour out along with tears and whimpers and hiccups. "I'm unattractive and fat and I don't fit any of my clothes and all the men look at the nineteen-year-olds in their short robes and high heels and just because I'm married and ugly they don't look at me. And I'm scared about being a mum this early and... and it's..." She stops.

"You're not fat or ugly, Granger. You're pregnant. There's a difference."

Hermione drops her arms and tries to understand why she feels relieved when he doesn't drop his. "Weasley," she says with a sniff. "It's not Granger; it's Weasley."

He touches her cheek, which is surprising and confusing and downright bizarre. All she can manage to think about is that his fingertips are rather soft and that she should push his hand away. But she isn't in her right mind so she doesn't. Her sensible side screams that this is Draco Malfoy. That he'd been a complete arse to her for practically forever. That she shouldn't allow him to touch her.

"It's easier to think of you as Granger. When I start trying to add Weasley it turns into a headache. And thinking of you as _Mrs_ Weasley makes you far too much like his mother."

God she hates her hormones sometimes. His words are silky and they make her feel good for all the wrong reasons.

When he kisses her, there is no explanation why. He doesn't tell her he's always thought of her or that he's been attracted to her for forever. He doesn't even say that he likes her or any other excuse that he might come up with. She finds she doesn't actually care and for the first time in a while she feels desired in a totally different way than with her husband.

It's a need. Or a want.

And she lets it go too far.

***

Draco becomes this addiction that Hermione can't see herself giving up. Though she tries. Every Wednesday she tells herself it's the last day and then the next week rolls around and she is _craving_ him. She doesn't think Ron suspects. How could he? He's at the joke shop every day and never sees what she's up to on Wednesdays at two in the afternoon.

She tries to tell herself it's only about the sex and that it's not all that complicated and once the baby's born it'll go away. She _never_ thought she could be this wanton, yet she's drawn to him and they have to put up charms to keep the noise out. Because it turns out she's a screamer.

Which never happened with Ron.

***

In public they are nothing to each other. He greets her with a nod, sometimes a sneer. Hermione shakes her head and continues on her way. It makes things easier between them. As if what happens in room 610 doesn't actually happen. She finds it funny in a Las Vegas sort of way. He gives her an odd look when she tells him as much and puts his tie back on.

The first time she notices that he wants to keep it a secret is at St. Mungo's.

She comes out of her doctor's appointment all green lights and gold stars. Everything is proceeding as planned and my she's got something extra glowing about her. The doctor says that it's perfectly safe to continue having a normal sex life. And gives her a wink at that. Cheeky witch. How does she even know?

He's sitting in a chair in the waiting room and there's a child next to him with the sniffles.

A nod. "Granger."

"Malfoy."

There's no other attempt at conversation; he continues to read an outdated issue of _Witch Weekly_. Hermione finds a seat on the other side of the room. Ron is supposed to be picking her up in a few minutes. He would have been there, but someone from the shop called in sick. Astoria comes out of another examination room, smaller than Hermione but just as pregnant. She pushes past an elderly witch with a cane and taps her foot on the ground waiting for Draco to stand. He asks the requisite questions: is everything alright? Can they tell if it is a boy? Yes, I want to know, don't you? Then takes her tiny hand and folds it around his arm. There is a glance to where Hermione sits, filling out a stupid quiz about how well she knows her man. The glance is miniscule.

Hermione's face is red.

Astoria notices and Hermione is glad that no one actually has the power to shoot daggers out of their eyes.

***

"I think we should stop," Hermione says. It's quarter to three now and she's just managing to get the buttons of her blouse through the right holes; her fingers are shaking.

"Why?" He does up the zip on his trousers and buckles his belt.

"You're _married_! I'm married! We're both about to have children. Maybe I'm a little bit more involved in that part... But still. What about your wife?"

He looks at her sadly. For the first time in the last few months she sees how tired he is. There are circles under his eyes that never used to be there and she hates to admit it, but his hairline is receding. Even after having been through a war, she doesn't think that they should look this old. They're only in their twenties. She's never actually asked him about his marriage before. They don't tend to do a lot of talking. Somehow she realises that perhaps things aren't so wonderful in the Malfoy household.

"Astoria doesn’t want to be pregnant. She finds the whole process disturbing. And she won't let me touch her. Even to feel the baby."

There's a gasp. Hermione is flooded with sympathy for him.

"You were scared and sad and maybe not ready, but you never said you didn't want it." He shrugs and straightens, trying to put on a mask for her that just won't cover up what he's shown. He's holding his cards backwards now and she can see the entire hand. None of them are winners. Isn't that a hell of a thing? "I just wanted to know what it was like."

Usually the kisses they've shared have been frantic, but this is different. When she kisses him it's tender and when she threads her fingers through his hair, it's gentle. He pulls her close and nearly folds himself around her. She finds his hand and guides it to the curve of her belly where the child inside has been kicking away, always the most active after they're together. Hermione thinks maybe that it's angry at being woken up by all the movement, but she doesn't voice that thought. Pressing Draco's hand against her, she waits. And then there's the tap.

It's his turn to gasp.

It suddenly occurs to her that this can't possibly be new to him. His hands have been all over her body throughout this whole affair. The possibility that he hadn't felt the baby kick any other time, to her, seems very slim. But he stops kissing her and moves both his hands to follow the movement under her skin and the look on his face is reverent. So much so that she has to look away and watch his hands instead of his face. His left hand passes hers and she sees their rings. They don't match.

It frightens her when the thought passes through her head that it wouldn't be so bad if they did.

***

"I hate you. I hate you. I hate you! It hurts! Make it stop! Give me potions! Something to make it stop. You did this to me! I hate you!"

"They all say that."

"C'mon Hermione, just a little bit longer."

"No, I can't. Magic it out of me! I'm tired. I want my mum."

"You can do it! Now push!"

"Head's out! And its got a lot of hair!"

"See, Hermione! We're almost there. And our baby has hair. Lots of hair just like its mum!"

"One more big push, Mrs Weasley. That's it. Keep going. Shoulders... And it's a girl!"

"A girl! It's a girl, Hermione! Wait until I tell George! He owes me ten galleons!"

Ron kisses her temple and all Hermione can see is the tiny little thing they've placed in her arms. The rest of the world seems to fade into the background and she forgets most of what has just happened outside of the words that people said. And there's a strange sort of mixture between resentment and love filling her because she loves Ron with all her heart but she resents that he is the one to see this and not the person she'd wished was there. The feelings ripple under the surface. Strong enough that she is utterly horrified at herself and ashamed that she's thinking of anything but the little bundle in her tired arms.

Later she'll find out that Astoria gave birth in the next room and hour and a half later.

One more thing that Hermione will share forever with him.

***

Their Wednesday rendezvous fall by the wayside. Hermione is on maternity leave and doesn't come to the Ministry except to show Rose off to her co-workers occasionally. She consciously makes the choice not to arrive on Wednesdays, not at two in the afternoon and _not_ go anywhere near room 610. She thinks it will make things easier. Like pulling a sticking plaster quickly so it doesn't hurt as bad. He'll get over it. She'll get over it. Things will go back to normal.

Except they don't.

Draco steps in front of her during one of these visits and Hermione lurches with the pram. It's terribly old fashioned, something out of a fifties catalogue. Molly gave it to them when she heard Hermione was pregnant and there's a moment where she thinks that the whole thing, baby included, is going to topple over onto the floor. Three-month-old Rose keeps on sleeping, which is a blessing because she's been a little colicky for the last little while and the last thing Hermione wants is to have her wake up and start wailing again.

"I'd like to talk," he says and turns as if he expects she will follow him.

He knows her too well because she does.

Room 610 looks different somehow, which is absurd because the paint on the walls is still that atrocious shade of yellow and the large table in the middle still has the folded bits of paper that Draco put under one of the legs months ago when all it did was wobble and bonk whenever they were lying on top of it. But the room _feels_ different and therefore, to Hermione, it looks different. Though it still smells of memories and kisses and the way he used to touch her.

Draco holds the door open until she's inside and has parked the pram.

"So this is Rose?" He asks, looking down at her daughter.

"I'd offer to let you hold her, but she's just gone to sleep."

"No you wouldn't," he replies, his tone flat and rather emotionless. She is taken aback by it. The first time he's spoken to her in ages without any feeling.

"I'm sorry?" Hermione rests her hand lightly on Rose's belly, feeling the tiny movements of every breath she takes.

"If you wanted me to see her, or to hold her, you would have come around to see _me_ ," he says and finally looks at her. There's an anger behind his gaze. "I had to hear from someone in reception that you were even at the Ministry today. And I _only_ heard because they were chattering while I was picking up some paperwork."

"Draco, we can't keep doing this." She starts to feel like panicking. Like she is losing her grip on the edge of the world and dangerously close to falling to her doom. "I love my husband. I love my marriage. What happened, it needs to end. It's not fair to Ron; I love him."

"You love me too."

"I do, but that's not the point here." Hermione's eyes widen. She realises what she's just said aloud.

Love is a curious thing. Hermione always thought that when she finally fell in love, that would be it and that she would only love this one person for the rest of her life. She finds that her heart is an unwanted traitor to the rest of her. It picks and chooses as it likes and she doesn't seem to have any logical say in the matter. No matter how long she tries to stay away, her heart seems to pick up where they left off as if no time has passed between them.

She stares at him.

He stares at her.

One of them moves first, she can't remember who, but in a moment they are practically devouring each other as if they have just now discovered what kissing really _means_. It's wrong. Just as wrong as before but she doesn't have the spiralling pregnancy hormones to blame. She could stop it. With one word she could stop him. He's not the type to force her to do anything. She could always say no and he would leave her. _We can't keep doing this_ and _It needs to end_ are just fragments that do not express what she _wants_.

And she wants him.

Hard and fast and hot and everything in between. She wants all that. And more.

Rose doesn't even wake up.

After it's over, he shows her pictures of his son, just as pale and angled as his father. Scorpius is quite the name, she thinks, and wonders what sort of fascination the Malfoys have with the stars. His son and her daughter share a birthday. They'll go to school together. She looks at Draco for a long moment and it's on the tip of her tongue to ask him to let their children be friends. She thinks it would be wonderful and very 'bridging the gap' for their families.

But she keeps quiet.

***

Rose is eight months old when Hermione learns she's pregnant and all she can manage is tears because she knows it isn't Ron's. In a different world she could be happy. She could have Draco's child and hold it in her arms and no one would hate her. In a different world she wouldn't be so frightened of the consequences of her choices and she would just be content to follow her heart where it chooses to lead her. But she isn't in a different world and she can't run off to some foreign little cottage to live out her days.

It's a Tuesday afternoon when she decides that she's going to tell Ron everything. She feeds Rose and puts her down for a nap, waiting for the moment when her husband comes through the door. Hermione wonders if he'll bellow or be calm about this and hear her out and it almost brings a sardonic sort of grin to her face because this is _Ron_ and he's never been subtle about his feelings.

She doesn't want this.

Her nerves are getting more and more frayed as the seconds tick past and nausea threatens every moment. 

When Ron comes home, the baby is screaming from her crib. Hermione's on the floor.

***

She vaguely hears the word ectopic. Vaguely hears Ron telling her he's sorry and it’ll be okay. She tries to tell him that it's not his fault -- not his baby -- but it all comes out as, "I love you so much; don't leave me."

***

"Can we just talk?" she asks when Draco reaches for her, his hand moving to the slope of her neck.

Despite everything that has happened, despite the scare, despite the loss, Hermione hasn't stopped the affair. She's in far too deep these days. Both with her body and with her heart. It's far too difficult for her. She's completely in love with two different men for two very different reasons. And no one knows about her selfish side, that she's not willing to let go of either of them.

"Is this pillow talk because I forgot to bring pillows." 

She smiles. "No. I just want to have a conversation. We don't talk a lot. How is Scorpius? Has he started to walk yet?"

Rose took her first steps three weeks ago and he shook his head when she told him, saying something about how her girl was such a _Granger_ always wanting to get ahead of the group. Hermione has a picture of his son in her purse and she looks at it often, wondering if he will be anything like his father. She offered Draco a picture of Rose; he told her he didn't need one. He sits himself against a table, one foot resting on a chair. So much love has been made on that table. And the chairs.

"Astoria spoils him. So does my mother. I'm afraid he's becoming a little too much like me."

"Take him to the park and let him play with the Muggles," she says though she knows he probably won't. "It might do him some good to get a little dirty. At least when he's a bit older."

He has to chuckle at that. "Astoria would kill me for even thinking of getting her angel dirty."

"And she's firm on not having any more?"

He nods and she takes his hand because she knows this is a sore subject for him. "I can't ask her to do something she doesn't wish to do. Astoria is much like her sister. Very set in her ways."

Hermione nods, remembering Daphne and how stubborn and opinionated the Slytherin girl was. More so than Pansy, which hardly seems possible, but happened just the same. She wishes she could share more with Draco. Children, a life, happiness. But she's caught in a web of her own choices. And if she breaks one of the strands, the whole thing comes crashing down in a tangled mess instead of the flimsy balance she has now.

"He'll be a good man, Draco."

"Sometimes I worry about that." He scrubs his hand over his face and runs his fingers through his hair. "I don't have many examples to give him."

"The few you have are the ones that count," she says and sits down beside him to lay her head against his shoulder. "You have an uncanny ability to make someone feel like they are your entire world. That counts a lot."

"You _are_ my entire world, Granger," he says with affection.

"No, I'm not. I'm just a tiny piece."

"We'll agree to disagree on that."

***

They go on a break for a while. Not out of anger or fear of discovery, but just some time off. It's mutual and pleasant. Draco and his family take a trip to visit old family in the province of Aquitaine. He likes to insist that the Malfoy's are somehow related to Eleanor and Hermione thinks it's amusing the way he goes on about it, but she doesn't mind his declarations. And she asks him to bring back a few books. She'd love to learn more about the region.

He sends her postcards and congratulations on changing jobs at the Ministry -- she always could do more work with laws than she could with creatures -- and best wishes for the new pregnancy. Sometimes the cards are coloured on. Scorpius may still be a baby, but she says the artist is showing through.

She scolds him for letting someone so young play with crayons.

It's months later when he comes back to England and there's a change in what they do and what they say. Maybe he found his answer in Bordeaux or maybe not, but things aren't as seemingly desperate as they once were. That isn't to say that it stops all together, but there are more conversations than before, which she likes. It's all laughter and friendship. Years ago she never would have thought something like this could happen. But it has and she's decided that she's not giving it up.

And it's a good thing too because Draco's the one who is with her when she goes into labour six weeks early.

He takes her to the hospital. Ron is with George in New York, scoping out an overseas expansion for the Wheeze empire. Draco sends word, but they both know it'll be a while before Ron even gets the message. And by the time a portkey is made and he gets back to England, the whole thing will be over. Hermione is beside herself with guilt.

She told him to go. The doctor said it was a long way off.

But nature has a way of turning things on edge.

She'd forgotten what it felt like. She'd forgotten how she screamed before. She'd forgotten the nasty things she'd said to Ron. She says them to Draco, even though he's not involved. Well. Not involved the way he actually could be.

When it's over, she realises that neither Ron, nor Draco, will ever know how much more she loves Hugo than the both of them. It sounds mean, but she can't help it. Impatient to a fault, but stubborn enough to be resilient, Hugo is so much like his father and she can't wait to show him to Ron. The world falls away and all she really wants to do is be a mum to this little boy.

Harry and Ginny arrive with James and Albus in tow. Both of them eye Draco suspiciously who is sitting on a chair near the window, reading a pamphlet about Dragon Pox inoculation. He excuses himself politely and heads for the door. 

"Thank you, Draco," she says, hoping he will understand.

There's a nod. "Congratulations Mrs Weasley. I'll inform your department about your absence."

Harry and Ginny pounce on her with questions. The only explanation she gives is that he was there and he helped. It seems to satisfy them. She's not sure if it truly does. But she doesn't actually care. Because she has a son. And when Ron finally gets there, they will share in all that.

***

Sending off her own child to Hogwarts is a lot harder than Hermione ever expects it to be and she has to hide it beneath exasperated looks and scolding her husband. Ron tells the kids that it's Gryffindor or disinheritance and she can't stand that. For all his desires, she knows her children better than the Sorting Hat. Rose has picked up far more of Hermione's Ravenclaw nature and will be wearing Blue and Bronze before the day is out. Hugo is destined for Hufflepuff. She knows it in her heart and loves him just the same. Their houses will be their families and notions of good versus evil need to be stamped out.

"So that's little Scorpius," Ron says out of the side of his mouth. She looks at him surprised, but realises that he hasn't actually seen the boy grow up as she has. With a grin he looks at their daughter and pats her on the head. "Make sure you beat him in every test, Rosie. Thank God you inherited your mother's brains."

"Ron, for heaven's sake," Hermione tries to make her voice sound amused, but it comes out mixed with disapproval. "Don't try to turn them against each other before they've even started school!"

She doesn't like the way he's nonchalant about it. Teasing Rose about marrying a pureblood. It irritates her a little that Ron still thinks so little of Draco. Even after Hugo and actually thanking the Slytherin for being there when he couldn't. She decides not to say that she thinks that Rose and Scorpius will share a house. That he's been living in a world where his father wants things to be different and has brought his son up well. That Scorpius will end up surprising them all. She doesn't say this because she thinks everyone will start to wonder. That Ron will know far too much and start questioning everything.

But then it _is_ Ron. She can't expect him to really be that astute.

They wave the children off and Ron slides his arm around her waist. Hugo and Lily run alongside the train, waving and cheering for their siblings. Hermione is content with the fact that school will be so different from when she went. That her daughter will not have to live in fear or under the constant threat of Voldemort.

She hopes that Rose has learned tolerance.

When they pass by the Malfoys, Hermione ignores the pointed glare that Astoria gives her. In the bustle of bodies and press of families still waving goodbye, she brushes past Draco and their fingertips touch. He doesn't look at her, she doesn't look at him. But the touch says many things. Hello. Goodbye. I love you. I'll see you tomorrow. Don't be late. He'll be fine at school. She'll make lots of friends in class. You have my heart.

It's a strange sort of world she lives in. And she's content to stay in this world as long as she can manage.

**Author's Note:**

> Please keep the criticism constructive. Flames will be regarded as spam and flagged as such.


End file.
